Complicated
by Cantrel
Summary: ....I walked into the kitchen, purposly ignoring all the nasty looks I received...."
1. Such A Nice Way To Die!

**Complicated  
By** _Cantrel_

**Chapter One: Such Nice Way To Die!**  
  
I walked into the kitchen, purposly ignoring all the nasty looks I received from a few of the elves. Apparently Hermione had suceeded in setting a few of them free, and they were still here, working for pay and holiday's off. I smiled bemusedly, wondering briefly when Hermione would stop with all that 'spew' nonscense.  
  
I sauntered over to one of the tables, pulling out a chair and sitting down. A half a second later one of the elves brought me my usual turkey sandwich. I smiled at him, thanking him profusly. He glared stuffily at me and hopped off to continue washing the dishes.   
  
I laughed to myself and took a bite of my sandwich, wishing Dobby wasn't on vacation. He never glared at me, and he made the best sandwich's I had ever had. I let out a sigh as I swallowed my first bite.   
  
I watched the house elves scurry around, feeling a bit lonly. Hermione and Ron were on prefects duty, so I was left alone. I sighed again and bit into my sandwich once more.  
  
As I chewed, one of the house elves tottered off the counter, going head first into a sink full of soapy dishes. A second later it appeard with soap suds all over it's head and face, giving it a beard to rival Dumbledore's. I let out a snort of laughter.  
  
And that's when it happened.  
  
The bite of turkey I had in my mouth lodged itself in my throat. I let out a chocking gasp as I tried franticaly to dislodge it.  
  
Air left me all toghether as I chocked silently to death, all the while my brain was passing madly through thought after thought.  
  
'Oh this is nice,' My inner voice shouted in my head, 'I escape Voldermort's clutches no less then five times, then I choke to death on a fucking turkey sandwich...just lovely....will look great on the front pages....I can see it now...'  
  
I started to feel slightly faint, when I felt two strong arms snake their way around my stomache, and start to tighten below my ribs. The food I had been choking on quickly disloged itself, allowing me to breathe again. I drew in a shuddering breath, my head swimming painfully at the sudden rush of oxygen.   
  
I slowly turned around, looking into the eyes of my rescuer.

* * *

His emerald green eyes met mine, then widened in alarm.   
  
"Oh shit." He whispered. I narrowed my eyes into a glare.  
  
"Oh your quite welcome." I said cooly.  
  
He moaned and put his head in his hands. His unruly black hair was sticking up even more. "Thanks....but now it's going to be over the whole school...."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"The fact," he said pausing and looking at me. "That the boy who lived almost choked to death on a turkey sandwich...."  
  
I cocked my head, the point not clicking.  
  
He sighed and glared at me, reading my body language perfectly. "What I mean," he continued. "is it will seem pretty funny that I could go up again Voldermort, but obviously couldn't 'defeat' a turkey sandwich."  
  
I raised and eyebrow, still not finding this funny.  
  
"You know, Potter," I started in my usual sarcastic voice. "Your even stranger then I thought."  
  
He got up from the table, his movements slow and quite obviously painful. He stood hanging onto the table for a moment, then looked at me with blazing, suspicious eyes. I felt a gasp rise in my throat but stiffled it almost instantly. A funny feeling had arisen in my stomache....a feeling I didn't like to much....  
  
"Why the hell did you save me?" He barked at me. I jumped, shocked slightly by his rough tone of voice. "Your the son of a convicted Death Eater, who wants me dead." He shook his head. "It makes no sense." His eyes were still narrowed and suspicous.  
  
I raised an eyebrow cooly, trying not to show the surge of anger that was rippling inside me.  
  
"Well," I said slowly, as if talking to a five year old who wanted to know why Mummy and Daddy weren't going to live together anymore. "When one see's one choking, one usually goes to help the person before they die, even if they hate the person." I snorted as I watched him chew on my words. "For Gods sake Potter, I don't like you, but that doesnt mean I want you dead."  
  
He looked up at me, suprise flashing brilliantly in his eyes.  
  
"You don't?" He half whispered, the shock etched it's way onto his face.  
  
"Well," I said, slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. "No...not really....no..."  
  
I looked down at the ground. I could feel his eyes moving over every inch of my body, I shifted from one foor to the other, slightly uncomfortable, yet pleased at having him look at me in such a manner. I felt heat rise in the pit of my stomache.   
  
'What's wrong with you?' I mentally cursed myself. 'Quit being so sick, and disgusting, and wrong, and not right...and wrong...wrong! It's just wrong!'  
  
He let out a low whistle under his breath. My head snapped up at this noise, and he looked at me apprasingly.   
  
"I never saw that one coming." He said to me. His eyes did not leave mine, and I tried to keep my breathing steady, all the while telling myself that I was a sick little dragon that should have his eyes poked out. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." He started to walk towards the door leading out into the hall.   
  
"Wait, Potter?" I said against my will. I forced the look of pained discomfort off my face as he turned around to look at me.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Are you alright?" I asked. His eyebrow's shot up, and his face softened. A ghost of a smile flittered onto his face.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He said, then continued out, leaving me feeling lost, confused, and strangly empty.

* * *

TBC


	2. It's Just Hormones!

**Complicated  
By**_ Cantrel_

**Chapter Two: It's Just Hormones!**  
  
I can hear the muffled "tick, tick, tick...." of the clock, and the almost silent scratching of many quills across parchment. The sounds, combined with the disgusting and just flat out wrong thoughts that are running through my head, are enough to drive me mad.  
  
But I can't go mad, not in the middle of charms class.  
  
People think I'm mad as it is. Would it really be wise to add fuel to their over active, imaginative thoughts? No, I think not.  
  
I mean, yes, of course it's been proven that I was telling the truth about Voldermort, but what of it? That still doesnt stop any nasty little rumors they come up with about me. They still think I'm mad, for various reasons, and if they knew what was going through my mind at the moment, they'd want to check me into St. Mungo's.....  
  
Honestly, if anyone's mad, it's them, considering all the nasty stuff they can come up with.  
  
I let out a trapped sigh, causing Hermione's eyes to snap up from her paper, and narrow on me in a nasty, annoyed-as-hell glare. I flash a semi-apologetic grin at her, then her eyes snap over to her watch. They widen in alarm, then she goes back to scratching madly at her paper.  
  
I roll my eyes, half disgusted and half amused. Honestly, she's got a half an hour left and she's already a half a foot over what she was supposed to do.  
  
Damn know-it-all perfectionist.  
  
After a few moments of trying to come up with a really snide comment to hit her with after class, my thought's sink back into a Malfoy filled fantasy.  
  
In it I have Malfoy lieing back on a desk, moaning my name as my hands and mouth travel over his almost translucent skin. I can feel his every well toned muscle moving against my......  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" The rational side of me screams out suddenly. I resist a moan at the end of the fantasy....always ends at the good part....  
  
"Oh, isn't it obvious?" My other side purr's back, giggling slightly.  
  
And thus begins the long argument between the two of them.  
  
And that, you see, is the reason I'm about to go mad. Simply raving....  
  
I look at my watch. Another twenty minuets of class. I let out a curse underneath my breath, earning a well aimed kick in the shin from Hermione.  
  
I glare stuffily at her, then try to go back to my essay.

* * *

I let out an odd squelching noise as I lean back against the end of my bed. I bring my knees up to my chest, incircling them with my arms, glaring nastily at my reflection in the mirror that sits across from me.  
  
I put my aching, confused head into my hands. All morning his annoyingly perfect image, with those annoyingly stunning green eyes have been running through my head. Fantasy after ever so wrong fantasy has been taking hold of me today, and I honestly don't know why.  
  
Wait, that's a lie.  
  
I've known for a while now that I'm a bit....er...well....queer. But honestly! It's Potter for the Godesses sake! Scrawny, geeky, Potter....  
  
"But he's no longer scrawny," A voice I know all to well purrs from the back of my mind. "Nor is he geeky. As a matter of fact, he's a rather delicious looking peice of...."  
  
"NO!" I shout. I promptly bang my head into the wooden end of my bed.  
  
"It's only hormones." I whisper. "I'm being a normal, hormonal teenager."  
  
"Sure!" The voice purrs back, laughing. "Just keep telling yourself that."  
  
I moan, hiding my face in my hands.  
  
'It's just hormones, it's just hormones, it's just hormones....."

* * *

TBC


End file.
